


Kirkwall Freed

by Terion



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-05
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2017-12-28 13:14:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/992407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terion/pseuds/Terion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some might tell the story that when the apostate Anders blew up the Kirkwall Chantry, Treva Hawke was quick to slay him in her fury at the death of the Grand Cleric. That, however, is merely a tale concocted by Varric Tethras to protect her and others. This is the true story of what happened that day...and all that came after.</p><p>(( This story will eventually hit upon the events of Inquisition, if in a much different manner. Because Treva doesn't do things the easy way. ))</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 9:37 Dragon - Love Even In Death

For a moment Treva Hawke couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything to tear her eyes away from the empty place where the Chantry had stood only moments before. She then closed her eyes at Sebastian’s mournful cry, his emotions tearing at her own, before the anger welled up sharp and bright.

 

Yet she held it in as she settled the current conflict around her, not making enough of a promise to either Meredith or Orsino to say who’s side she would fall on but enough to make them both leave. There was other business to be attended to before she made that choice.

 

In a fury she whirled on the man sitting on a nearby crate and slapped him hard enough to draw blood at the edge of his lip.

 

“You _bastard_ ,” she snarled, shoulders shaking, magic welling up inside her chest and screaming for release. “Do you know what you’ve _done_?”

 

“Taken away the choice of compromise,” came the weary reply and Treva wanted to kill him, any remaining shreds of love for him washing away in the wake of her rage. It was so hard not to just choke him as she reached out to grab the front of the damnable black coat - why hadn't she suspected when he started wearing it - and jerked him to his feet.

 

“No!” she howled in his face. “You’ve done nothing but take away the choice from every mage! Meredith is right; this is going to demand retribution and all of us are going to pay for it!”

 

Anders’ face rippled suddenly with anger and he shoved her away, snarling with veins of blue light momentarily crackling across his cheeks. She stumbled and heard the others behind her: the sharp click of Bianca as Varric readied her to fire, the creak of Sebastian’s bowstring, Aveline’s armored feet scraping against the cobblestones, Isabela’s daggers rasping from their sheaths, the sizzling crackle of Merrill’s magic, and the low thrum of Fenris’ lyrium-born power that she felt all the way to her bones. Treva held up a warding hand as she regained her balance and watched as her fellow mage’s eyes widened with the realization that her hand was all that was holding them back.

 

Then his gaze hardened again and Anders growled, “Don’t you want mages to grow up with the freedom you had?”

 

“ _Freedom_?” she repeated, laughing harshly. “What _freedom_ , Anders? I spent my whole life running! Maybe it wasn’t the Circle but it was still a prison.”

 

“You had your family.”

 

“Not anymore!”

 

She screamed the words and they carried her pain into the air, causing him to lean backwards as his eyes widened. Drawing in a deep breath, Treva clenched her hands into fists to still the sudden lightning crackling between her fingers. “My father, mother, and sister are dead. Maker only knows what’s happened to my uncle and cousin in this mess and Carver…” For a moment her throat closed up, then she continued, “Carver’s a _templar_. And you…you want me to fight him.”

 

Something in Anders’ face softened at that and for a moment she saw the man she’d fall in love with during those first years in Kirkwall instead of the Justice-consumed would-be martyr he’d become. “Treva, I…”

 

“ _Don’t_ ,” she snarled and it took everything in that moment to not just break then and there. Her entire body shook and Treva closed her eyes for a moment, wanting to scream, to cry, to just _run_. Somehow she managed to breath, “I loved you, Anders.”

 

He swallowed hard, brown eyes filling with the knowledge of what they had both known was inevitable from the moment the Chantry had exploded in red light, and said quietly back, “And I you, Treva.” Anders suddenly seemed to collapse in on himself then, all self-righteousness drained out of him. “You deserved better than this.”

 

“I did.”

 

Anders nodded then hissed, turning his head away as the all too familiar veins of light flared along his skin. His eyes glowed and Treva could taste the Fade on the back of her tongue even as she heard Varric curse before Anders screamed, “NO!” And then the glow was gone, leaving her blinking down at him where he’d collapsed, fingers clutching at the cobblestones like he was about to fly off and never come back down.

 

Ignoring Varric’s growled _Hawke_ that mixed with Aveline’s steady _Be careful_ and Sebastian’s whispered prayer, Treva moved towards him. She slowly sank to her knees in front of Anders, sighing before she reached out to tug the tie from his hair and run her fingers through the dark blond locks. A low whine came from the man and then his arms were around her, his face pressed into the fur around her shoulders.

 

“I never wanted this,” he murmured feverishly. “Freedom for us to just be what we wanted and not be caged like animals but…not _this_. I didn’t mean to kill us all.”

 

“I know,” she breathed, fingers still tracing through his hair even as she wondered where all her anger had suddenly gone.

 

“Treva.”

 

“Anders?”

 

“Make it quick.”

 

Her heart seized in her chest at his words and it took everything in her to not start crying. Part of her still loved him despite everything, despite the Chantry, despite trying to force her to choose.

 

“If I kill you,” she found herself saying and quietly loathing every word, “they’ll only make you a martyr for your cause.”

 

Anders shrugged, the movement shaking her slightly. “Don’t I deserve to die for starting a war?” he asked in a hopeless tone.

 

Part of her wanted to tell him no, wanted to say that he could make up for what he’d done but the words choked in her throat. Knowing him, knowing _Justice_ , she knew he would never disappear quietly. He would always, _always_ , end up here again. And as much as she’d feared the templars all of her life, they had a purpose. The Circles had a purpose.

 

Without their father, she and Bethany would have likely become just like the mages they’d fought over the years. Who would be there to teach young mages now if others saw what happened in Kirkwall and revolted? Would there be kind apostate fathers and loving mothers for all of them?

 

No. There weren’t nearly enough of those to go around.

 

Her knife was in her hand almost before she was aware of drawing it, awkwardly grasping it in her left hand as her right continued to run through Anders’ hair. Moving blindly, she tried to move it between them and press the point against his chest and gasped when his larger hand clasped over the hers, shifting the blade just slightly to the side so it rested above his heart. His skin was warm against hers, almost feverish, and it brought back memories of their nights together before he had started pulling away.

 

“It isn’t fair,” she breathed. “You’ve been gone for three years and now you’re back. And I have to kill you.”

 

Somehow Anders managed a chuckle, lifting his head from her shoulder to meet her eyes with a sad gaze. It was startling to see Justice - no, _Vengeance_ \- staring back at her out of the brown eyes she knew so well, now marred with a blue glow around the edge of the irises. She could almost feel the barely contained anger from the spirit and then Anders said, “Life isn’t fair.”

 

Treva started to open her mouth to respond only to have his consume it. She heard a startled cry from Sebastian and a snarl from Fenris and wanted to tell them that she isn’t letting him _go_. This is…

 

This is their _goodbye_.

 

He felt like her Anders again and she wanted to drown in him, in the scent of herbs and lyrium and Fade and never come back up for air. Yet all too soon the kiss was over, her lips tingling in the aftermath, and he was leaning his forehead against hers with his eyes closed. Treva could hear his breath coming in harsh gasps now and closed her eyes, knowing the end was coming.

 

“I can’t hold him much longer,” he breathed. “We’re not done yet, according to him. But I’m _done_ , Treva. I’ve had enough. I’m tired of hurting you and everyone I care about.”

 

“I know,” she said quietly in return and his hand tightened over hers, both of them pressing the dagger close to his chest so the point dimpled his coat and the skin underneath. “Anders…”

 

He interrupted her with a teary sounding, “Try…try and forget the past three years. I…Treva… _I_ _’m sorry_.”

 

“Already forgotten,” insisted Treva even thought she hadn’t and likely wouldn’t for many years to come. Moving her head, she kissed him again ever so lightly and felt his lips move in return. “I do love you,” she breathed, hearing the tears she’d been trying not to shed in her voice now.

 

Anders smiled, eyes opening to meet hers and she could see the blue glow growing, cracks like those that showed across his skin burning through the brown. He then leaned in, capturing her lips one last time as they moved together in one harsh gesture to thrust her blade into his heart. Treva caught him as he let out a pained gasp into her mouth and lowered him to the ground, fingers tangling in his hair as the tears finally won their fight to reach her eyes.

 

His brown eyes, suddenly clearer than she has ever known them to be, focused on her face for a moment then he was gone.

 

She could feel the sorrowful keen building in her chest almost instantly and let it loose with a fury, sounding out all of her anger and sadness in one cry. In the blur of thoughts in her mind, she damned them all: mages, templars, apostates, Justice, and even her father. Then, when the last notes of her scream was still ringing in the air, she lunged at Anders’ body and violently pulled her knife from his chest.

 

As it clattered to the cobblestones she heard Varric ask _Hawke, what are you doing_ as she started to fumble at the clasps and buckles of her dead lover’s coat. Treva just kept moving, unable to answer through the choking feeling in her throat, until she tugged the coat free and buried her face in the black feathers lining the shoulders.

 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you,” she breathed, closing her eyes tight. “I will make sure that mages survive this war. That’s the only promise I can make, Anders.”

 

Hands shaking, Treva started tugging off her armor, ignoring the murmurs of surprise from behind her. Anders’ coat hung like a blanket on her but she didn’t care as she pulled the buckles as tight as she could. Then the armor went back on, the fur around her neck mixing with the feathers now decorating her shoulders, and she rose to her feet.

 

They were all staring at her like she was some mysterious thing when she turned to face them and it took a moment for Treva to realize that she was exactly that. Standing in front of them wearing Anders’ coat with his blood still wet on its breast, she probably looked absolutely insane.

 

“Hawke?” breathed Varric, the first to speak just as he was her first real friend in Kirkwall, and Treva smiled.

 

“I’m not taking up his cause, Varric.” At the dwarf’s sigh of relief, she added, “But I’m not entirely casting it aside either. He was right that mages have been treated wrong…Anders just went about it the wrong way.”

 

They each frown in turn - except for Merrill, who looks both happy and sad all at once - and she continued, “I don’t want to do this for either side, mages or templars, because they’re _both_ wrong. Meredith needs to be stopped. And I can’t fight against my little brother.”

 

“We fight on the side of the templars then,” concluded Fenris, his stiff stance relaxing somewhat.

 

Shaking her head, Treva replied, “No, we’re on _our_ side, same as we’ve always been. If a mage isn’t attacking except to defend themselves or casting blood magic, I want you to defend them. If a templar needs help, I want you to aid them. I will _not_ let Kirkwall destroy itself because of this after all it’s survived.”

 

“So,” said Varric, his smirk suddenly returning. “We rescue Junior, take down the crazy Knight-Commander, and somehow manage to _not die_ while both sides inevitably try to kill us because we aren’t on theirs.” He shook his head and Treva couldn’t help but return the grin he flashed her a moment later. “You take me to the strangest places, Hawke.”

 

“You know you love it.”

 

“Only because it’s you, Hawke. Only because it’s you.”

 

Treva smiled then sobered as she said, “Fenris, Sebastian…help me with the body.” Both elf and prince looked like they were about to protest violently but she pinned each of them with a fierce look, not accepting anything but their acquiescence. “He saved both of your lives time and time again without asking for anything in return, same as he did for everyone in Darktown. You _owe him_ this little bit of respect no matter his crimes.”

 

Sebastian’s eyes widened then he nodded, bowing his head. For a moment she thought Fenris was going to just leave then he inclined his head in agreement. Together the three of them lifted Anders’ body and carried him with them until they reached the docks.

 

As Treva finished arranging the body in the little rowboat Merrill had found, she brushed Anders’ hair back neatly before folding his arms across his chest. Then she leaned forward to kiss his forehead before shoving the boat away from where she knelt on the dock. The current caught it after a terrifying moment when it seemed it would stall and carried it slowly away from them.

 

“Goodbye,” she whispered then reached for her magic, calling a ball of fire to her hand. For a moment she clung to the warmth before she tossed it towards the boat in a throw that would have been nigh impossible without magic. As the flames caught and began to consume the little vessel and its contents, she turned to step onto the ship Isabela had declared _Good enough_.

 

Eyes bright with grief and fury, Treva lifted herself into the ship’s bow and focused on the smoke rising from the Gallows ahead.

 

It was time to end the war in Kirkwall.

 

After that…well, she had a promise to keep now, didn’t she?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of 10/11/13, this chapter has been slightly reworked as I felt the whole series was not heading in quite the exact direction I wanted it to. Rewrites of the rest will follow and will have a note similar to this one when they have been uploaded.
> 
> Second minor edit to correct some wonky tenses on 12/16/15.


	2. 9:37 Dragon - Forging Anew

 “We _can_ do this,” growled Treva as she slammed her hands down onto the desk that sat in the Knight-Commander's office. It was a move she never would have dared the last time she had stood in the room for fear it would provoke Meredith into action. Now it was Cullen behind the desk, a fellow Fereldan and one of the few templars she could actually call an ally. “We just have to try.”

 

Cullen leaned back in the chair he'd only occupied for two days since she had stormed into the Gallows wearing her dead lover's coat – the coat she was still wearing despite having shed her armor – and blinked at her a few times. Treva immediately took it for the confusion it was and snapped, “I support the freedom of mages but not at the cost of all of us running wild. Without my father to teach me, I would have been just one more out of control mage for you to hunt. That was one thing Anders hadn't thought of.”

 

The templar's eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of the apostate then he shook his head. “I'm not sure,” he began slowly, “that many would take kindly to the changes you propose.”

 

“It's what's _needed_ ,” she growled. “And you know it as well as I do.”

 

Golden eyes focused on her for a moment then he leaned forward, resting armored elbows on the desk. Cullen frowned for a moment then said, “Freedom didn't keep the mages in the Tower from revolting.”

 

Treva snorted and he glared. “Please,” she spat, not at all threatened, “don't pretend that the Tower was _freedom_ before things changed after the Blight. My father was a Fereldan mage, remember? I was weaned on stories of what the Tower's idea of freedom was.” She then paused, lips pressing into a thin line, before continuing, “The only bright spot of it is that they had more freedom than any other Circle I've heard of before that revolt.”

 

Leaning forward, she pointed at the papers between them on the desk that laid out her ideas to change the Kirkwall Circle into something her father would have been proud to be part of. Something _Anders_ , not Vengeance or Justice but the man she had wished she had truly known, would have been proud to be part of.

 

“Make the change,” she said, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “Please.”

 

Cullen watched her for a moment then Treva blinked as he asked, “How is this plan any more freedom than your life?”

 

She thought of what Anders had asked her – _Don't you want mages to grow up with the freedom you had_ \- and answered, “What freedom is there when you're always running, terrified that the next village could be the one with the templar that takes away everything you've ever known? I don't want to do that. Bring them here, yes, and teach them but by the Maker taking them entirely away the families that accept magic is just wrong.”

 

If the answer surprised him, he didn't show it. Cullen continued looking at her for a long moment then let out a long breath before saying, “We'll have to do it slowly. Weeding out the last of the Commander's supporters will be the most difficult part.”

 

For a moment Treva didn't think she'd actually heard him correctly, that he wasn't accepting her proposal to try and turn the Kirkwall Circle into the haven of protection and teaching that the Circles should have always been. She might have very well forgotten to breathe to in that moment. Then it passed and she finally straightened from the desk with a small smile twisting her lips.

 

“I should think _you're_ the Commander now.”

 

Cullen shrugged one heavily armored shoulder at that. “Only until the Chantry appoints someone else officially.”

 

 _Or until the Circles revolt_ , thought Treva. She didn't speak that thought aloud, however, as both of them knew it was coming and that they had to keep Kirkwall from following suit. “Why let them?”

 

There was a long silence in answer then he asked in a haunted voice, “You've never seen a templar in lyrium withdrawl, have you, Hawke?” When she blinked at him, he continued, “We need the Chantry for that if nothing else.”

 

Treva had a sudden sickening feeling in her gut then and breathed, “Carver?”

 

“He'll be fine,” answered Cullen. “Just in case things get...bad...we've begun slowly lessening the lyrium given to those who took their vows in the past few years. That way we can keep a close to normal amount for those that would be affected the worst.”

 

“Thank the Maker.” She then frowned at him as she did some quick math and realized that _he_ was one of those who would be affected worst. “Would the Chantry take away your lyrium supplies if they found out what we were doing?”

 

“Undoubtedly.”

 

Silence filled the office at that, leaving Cullen watching her expectantly and Treva with a sickening lurrch in her stomach. Then she shook herself, lifted her chin, and said firmly, “Well then, _Commander_ , I suppose we'll have to start stocking up by other means.”

 

He blinked at her, mouth opening slightly in shock, then – to her utmost surprise – he began to laugh. Not a small laugh or a quiet chuckle but a full-on belly laugh that made him lean back in his chair and his armor rattle. Shaking his head, Cullen looked up at her when he finally caught his breath to say, “I should have known better than to think something like that would stop you, Champion.” Then he looked thoughtful and nodded towards the door she had slammed shut behind her when she had barged into the office. “Since it seems we're likely to be working together for some time, you're welcome to take the First Enchanter's office.”

 

For a moment Treva didn't know what to say in response to that. The thought of taking Orsino's office after what had happened to him...and she wasn't even a Circle mage!

 

“And I'm likely never going to officially be Knight-Commander but that's what I've become,” said Cullen, making her realize she'd said the last bit aloud. “You're the only reason the city didn't collapse after what happened. Take the office. The mages respect you, half my templars respect you, the whole of the Guard does...Maker, Hawke, _I_ respect you. You don't have to take up the title, just the position.”

 

“You respect me even though I'm a mage?”

 

“The feelings I expressed about mages when we met have changed, to say the least. What you've done in this city has been a large part of that. So, yes, I respect you even though you're a mage.”

 

Treva stared at him for a moment then smiled, decided she would leave the conversation at that. With his having agreed to what she proposed for the Circle, there would be time enough for further conversations. Inclining her head, she said, “I'll leave you to your organizing then.”

 

As she turned, opening the door and starting to step out, Cullen's voice made her pause.

 

“Why did you do it?”

 

“What are you asking?”

 

“Why did you kill Anders knowing it would make him a martyr?”

 

Pain exploded in her lower lips as she bit it and Treva unconsciously lifted a hand to the fresh patch on the black robes. It was Merrill's work, done the night after the battle when Varric had coaxed Treva into a bed, and rather sloppy as the elven mage had been terrified she'd wake to steal the coat back. She was grateful for the patchwork, though, and even more so for the fact that it was no longer stained with blood.

 

Bowing her head, she answered in a broken voice, “Because he asked me to. He didn't want to hurt anyone else.”

 

“Hawke.”

 

She turned to look at him then, blinking away tears she hadn't truly allowed to fall in the two days since...everything. Cullen looked a little lost but he smiled despite that and said firmly, “Go home. Sleep. Mourn.” Her eyes followed his hand as he reached out to pick up her papers from the desk. “I can handle starting the work on this plan of yours. Just don't go running away.”

 

The thought of running had been something Treva had been toying with over the past two days but she'd come to the conclusion that actually trying to change things as she'd inteded was a better course of action. Now, knowing Cullen would help her, running wasn't even in her list of options anymore.

 

“Why?” she asked, trying to smile and joke to lighten her own mood. “Would you chase me?”

 

A chuckle answered her. “And drag you back to help me with this insane plan of yours.”

 

“You agreed to it.”

 

“Well, I never said I wasn't mad.”

 

 _That_ made her think of Anders and Treva choked on a sudden sob, barely noticing Cullen's stricken look. She held up a warding hand as he stood up, mumbled an apology, and ran, running as much from the embarrassment of crying in front of him as the memory of Anders.

 

Racing through the Gallows courtyard half-blind was not the best decision and when she crashed against an armored chest, Treva reflexively brought lightning to bear between her fingertips. There was a whisper of will pressing against her mind in response, just enough to thwart her spell, then arms encircled her in a familiar embrace. She sank into it with a sob, clinging to what she knew was templar armor and probably looking like a madwoman because of it.

 

“Shh,” Carver breathed in her ear as he held her up when her knees tried to buckle. “I've got you. _I've got you, sister._ ”

 

Treva clung to him, sobs wracking her body and lungs until she slumped weakly in his arms, one hand moving to brace itself against his chest. She looked down at the feel of something under her palm and started to laugh as she realized her hand was lying on top of the sword emblazoned across his armor. Her lungs protested the laughter but hysteria was consuming her now and she couldn't _stop._ So she clung to her brother because he was all she had left and just tried to weather the storm of emotion that had finally caught up with her.

 

Unconsciousness caught up as well and when she came to, she found in what she guessed was one of the templar quarters, lying on the bed with Carver and Cullen nearby. Looking at the mage bent over her, Treva licked her lips and asked, “What happened?”

 

“You fainted,” answered her brother, his face twisted into that look of intense worry she knew so well. “You just started laughing and then fell against me, dead to the world. If I hadn't been holding you already...”

 

“Luckily you were,” interjected Cullen. His eyes flicked to her face for a moment then towards the mage that was crouched next to the bed. “Siegfried, how is our Champion?”

 

The mage, whose salt-and-pepper red hair was at odds with his dark Rivaini skin, lifted his head and answered, “In quite excellent health, Captain...apologies, Commander. Messere Hawke is simply in need of a good rest and she will be well again.” He then frowned and closed his eyes, letting his hand drift out over Treva's prone body again. Tears pricked her eyes at the all-too familiar motion and Carver moved towards her and knelt, gripping her left hand in his armored one as magic washed over her.

 

Siegfried's eyes opened as his hand came to hover over her stomach and he blinked before looking up at Cullen. “Commander, I...”

 

“Speak, Siegfried,” said the templar sternly, though concern laced his voice. “The Champion is in no danger here.”

 

The mage swallowed, his throat bobbing wildly, and Treva felt dread swell inside of her to nearly the same fever pitch as it had two nights before. Dark eyes locked with hers and she could clearly read the apology in them as he said, “Messere...Champion...you're...with child.”

 

For a moment the room froze. Then Carver's initial look of shock turned into anger and he snarled a string of curses that he had to have learned from Isabela. Cullen pursed his lips into a white line then he nodded as Siegfried, motioning for the mage to leave before he followed. Leaving the Hawke siblings alone.

 

Treva just lay there on the bed, the words rolling over and over in her mind.

 

_With child._

 

_Child._

 

_CHILD._

 

_Anders' child._

 

Despite everything from earlier, a sob managed to burst from her chest and then she was crying, the hand Carver wasn't holding flying up to cover her mouth. She could just barely register him speaking, saying _something_ , then he was shifting closer to her. One armored arm wrapped carefully around her waist and he managed to rest his chin on her shoulder despite the discomfort it was probably causing him. It was the way they'd used to sleep, the twins and her, when they had been younger and all crammed into a single bed. Treva tugged at the hand he still held and when he released it she brought it up to hug him as best she could in return, fingers clutching at his gorget.

 

They stayed like that until she exhausted herself again and turned her head to lean against his, her lips pressed against his forehead. Then softly, quietly, he said, “I don't think he could have done it if he'd known.”

 

If Treva had had any energy left, that would have started her crying again. Instead she just made a strangled noise in her throat and shook her head. “Justice wouldn't have let him stop,” she breathed. “Not for anything.”

 

“I couldn't hope for it to be Fenris', could I? Or Varric's? Or...well, Sebastian is too much of a prude, so I won't even ask.”

 

Somehow that made her laugh and she knew that had been her little brother's intention. Kissing his forehead gently, she found she didn't have the voice to actually answer him. He knew what it was from her response and his arm tightened cautiously around her waist.

 

“Maker,” breathed Carver, “you have the worst luck, sister.” Then he lifted his head to look at her and asked, “What are you going to do?”

 

Too many answers tumbled through Treva's head but she knew, in her heart, there was only one thing she _could_ do.

 

Tears welling anew in her eyes, she answered, “I'm going to keep the best thing Anders' made in Kirkwall.”

 

Carver closed his eyes at that and sighed before resting his chin on her shoulder again. As she moved her hand downward, idly running her fingers through his hair, he said, “I hope you know what you're doing, sister.”

 

 _So do I,_ she thought as her other hand drifted down to rest on her belly. _Maker's mercy, Carver, so do I._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 10/11/13.


	3. 9:37 Dragon - New Homes, Old Homes

“This is the last of it, Mistress.”

 

Treva glanced up from the box she was idly sorting through and said, “Thank you, Orana.”

 

The elf smiled and bowed slightly before she looked around the room that Cullen had insisted Treva take - Meredith's old quarters, in fact, as they were the largest in the Gallows. _For the child_ , he'd said in a tone she guessed that he probably used with young initiates. It reminded her a little of her father's sternest tone, when his voice dropped just an octave or two and you could feel that he expected you to do exactly what he said or else.

 

“It could be a lovely place,” murmured Orana.

 

“It could,” agreed Treva. She then looked sideways at the young woman and said, “You, Bodahn, and Sandal are welcome to stay at the estate.”

 

That startled the elf and wide green eyes turned to stare at her before Orana stammered, “Oh, Mistress, I couldn't! It is yours!”

 

Sighing, she abandoned the box and moved towards her servant. Reaching out slowly - because even with all the years, Orana was still ever slightly jumpy sometimes - she touched her on the shoulder. “It is,” agreed Treva, “and maybe someday my child will take it back. But I...” There was suddenly a lump in her throat and she closed her eyes, willing the tears away.

 

“I can't _live_ there anymore, Orana. Not when I see Anders in every corner and I...I can't do it. I don't have the strength.”

 

“Oh, Mistress,” breathed the elf, reaching out to grasp her hands. Treva clung to the contact, finding it a little funny in the back of her mind that _she_ was taking comfort from _Orana_ when it was usually the other way around, and smiled weakly.

 

“I want you all to be safe and happy,” she insisted. “So stay, please. Think of it as, oh, as taking care of the estate for me if that will make it better.”

 

After a moment Orana nodded and said gently, “It does, Mistress. May I...would you still like me to come play for you some nights? As I did before Master Anders became...unwell?”

 

Unwell was all too kind a word for the madness that had consumed her lover and the father of her unborn child. Orana was trying to be kind as always, though, and thus Treva would accept it.

 

Squeezing the elf's hands, she nodded, saying, “I would like that.”

 

The words brought a smile to the young woman's face then she said, “We should be getting you settled in, Mistress."

 

“Oh, Orana, you don't have to help me do that. It's late, anyway, you should be getting back to town."

 

"Your brother offered to walk me back home tonight after I helped you."

 

Treva pursed her lips at her little brother's obvious method of taking care of her in the smallest of ways then let out a huff of laughter at herself. If Carver wanted to play mother hen for once, who was she to argue? It would probably be nice for once to be the once cared for and not the one giving the care.

 

"Alright," she said after a moment, smiling at the way Orana's green eyes lit up, "let's get to work making this place pretty, shall we?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12/16/15 : I can't believe no one has ever pointed out that I'd written **Bartrand** instead of **Bodahn** in this chapter. Then again, I can't believe that I even did that in the first place. Whoops.


	4. 9:37 Dragon - One Step Then Another

Treva stood shakily before the antique mirror that had come from the manor, one of the few remnants of the Amell fortunes that had not been savaged by scavengers. Hesitantly she lifted her hands, fingers rolling nervously against each other as if seeking purchase on anything they could, and slowly pulled the loose shirt she wore to bed these days tight against her front.

 

In the weeks - or was it months now - since discovering she carried a child, she had almost forgotten it amongst the chaos of the Gallows. Her presence hadn't been taken lightly by some of the templars and Cullen had been forced to stamp down furiously upon the naysayers rather than carefully as they'd intended. Already he'd stripped two of their commission, banishing them from the Order and from Kirkwall itself.

 

And now, of all times, her _condition_ had started to become obvious.

 

She stared at the unrelenting swell of her belly for a moment then sucked in a breath, vainly trying to pull her stomach flat again. Her efforts did little and Treva released the shirt with tears stinging her eyes as the reality of her situation crashed over her. She was overwhelmingly alone in a place she didn't know and one of the only handholds she'd had left had disappeared with the promise of one Hawke for another.

 

Belatedly she wished she'd told Sebastian where he could shove his request for aid in taking back a reportedly failing Starkhaven and kept Carver with her. She badly wanted his stubbornness now because her own was failing her in the wake of fear.

 

Suddenly the walls felt like they were closing in on her and Treva scrabbled for pants, tucked her feet into the soft sandals Orana had bought for her when she'd moved into the Gallows (citing cold stone and scolding her Mistress' penchant for striding about with bare feet), then dove for the door of her room. Almost instinctively, she turned before she hit the door and dragged Anders' coat from where it hung across a chair. Tucking it around her, she pulled the feathered shoulders up close to her face as she hurried through the Gallows, breathing in the familiar scent of herbs-lyrium-Fade that clung to it.

 

Several half-familiar faces nodded at her or seemed to speak but Treva ignored them, one goal in her mind.

 

She burst out into the open courtyard of the Gallows and broke into a run as soon as she saw the gateway that led to the docks, to the sea, and beyond. Down the halls and steps she went, coat billowing behind her, until she came to a stop at the edge of the stone walkway that was all too familiar. This had been her entry into Kirkwall, cold and hungry and full of rage at the fact that her home and sister had been taken away from her.

 

And now here she was again, standing on the stone pier in silence, having lost her home _again_ and her mother as well as the man she'd loved.

 

Treva lost track of time as she stood there, staring out to the sea with the wind in her hair. Right up until there was the sound of hurried footsteps behind her and she whirled to face them, one hand lifting up in front of her and magic curling around her fingers. For a moment she started to mouth the words of a spell as she saw the skirts of templar armor, realizing she was out alone and unarmored, easy prey for any of her newest enemies. Then she relaxed as she recognized the more stylized armor, her hand falling to her side as Cullen stepped out from underneath the shadows of the archway that separated Gallows from docks.

 

"Hi," she said lamely while curling back into the coat, turning just slightly back towards the sea.

 

He regarded her like some sort of strange creature for a moment then shook his head before moving forward. Treva blinked as he came to stand next to her and cocked her head slightly up at him.

 

"Keran came to me," he said after a moment. "He said you blew past him at a run without so much as noticing him or anyone else who said anything to you."

 

"Oh." She then frowned and asked, "So you decided to come check on me? Or just to make sure that I wasn't about to lose my mind and turn into a maleficarum on you?"

 

There was silence from beside her for a moment then Cullen quietly answered, "More the former than the latter." He then turned to face her and held up his hands almost helplessly as he said, "I'm not only here to try and help the mages we have left, Hawke. I can help you too."

 

Treva barked out a little mocking laugh at that and turned her head to look up at him with a sad smile. "Are you sure you want to help me?" she asked. "Everyone else who's tried in the past hasn't fared too well, just so you know."

 

"Perhaps they just didn't know how," he uttered softly. For some reason the words struck a harsh cord inside Treva and she found herself whirling to be face-to-face with him, her hands releasing their tight grip on the coat to curl into fists.

 

"What do _you_ know?" she snapped furiously. "You don't even know what I've been through!"

 

Cullen seemed to simply take her anger in stride, his voice still calm as he stated, "I know you lost someone you cared about."

 

"I LOST EVERYTHING!"

 

The words were out, raw and ragged, before Treva quite knew she'd shouted them. Her throat ached with the force that had expelled them into the quiet air of the docks and she reached out suddenly to brace against something, anything. The only thing nearby, of course, was Cullen and she found her hands once again framing the Sword of Mercy that was emblazoned on templar armor. Gauntleted hands curled around her forearms with far more gentleness than she'd expected and she half thought she'd look up and see pity in his eyes.

 

There wasn't. Only something like a deep understanding that she couldn't put words to and she had the sudden half-terrifying feeling that she shared more with this man than she had with the one who'd shared her bed for years.

 

"I lost everything once too," he said softly. "It was..."

 

"Agony," Treva finished. When he nodded, she closed her eyes and admitted cautiously, "I'm terrified."

 

"Of what?"

 

"Tomorrow and the next day."

 

"Take it one step at a time."

 

Treva let out a half-hysterical giggle at that and exclaimed, "And step by step I get flung into deeper waters!" She opened her eyes then and pulled one her arms out of his grip, jerking open the coat so she could press a hand against her belly. Belatedly she realized that she had left her room without putting even a breastband on but there was little for it now. "I'm having a _child_ , Cullen!"

 

"Yes," he said calmly, as if she'd stated that the sky was blue.

 

" _Alone_ ," she hissed pointedly, trying to ignore the ache in her heart at the word. Then she blinked as the man started laughing and exclaimed, "What the fuck!"

 

Cullen shook his head, still chuckling, and released her arm that he still held. His hands moved to her shoulders, gauntleted fingers closing over the feathery pauldrons, and he shook her gently as he leaned down so they were eye-to-eye.

 

" _That_ is what I've been trying to get across to you, Hawke. You _aren't_ alone."

 

"I..."

 

Treva then recalled the second time they'd sat down together to talk about her plans, days after she'd found out she was with child and had managed to get enough rest to not look constantly half bedraggled. They had agreed to be partners in this mess they'd found themselves in, working to bring life back into something that was almost ashes. _Better to be partners than constantly butting heads like Meredith and_ _Orsino_ , he'd commented. _This needs both of us to work._

 

"Partners," she breathed.

 

"Yes."

 

Closing her eyes, Treva shook her head before reaching up to steady herself by grabbing his armored arms. After a moment she reopened her eyes and met his, searching for something in them, though what exactly it was she didn't know. "What do I do?" she asked.

 

Cullen relaxed then, making her realize that he'd been tense through the whole of their conversation, and answered, "First off, I'd say go back to your room and change. Then come have lunch with me. I was intending to ask you anyway as I have an idea to discuss about what we'll do with mages in the future."

 

The prospect of talking about what was _work_ and not _life_ made Treva relax a little and she smiled. "And then what?"

 

"Then you go and have a long conversation with Siegfried. He's the foremost healer the Circle has left and I'm sure he's forgotten more about childbirth than a lot of midwives in this city ever learn." Sounding exasperated, he tacked on, "The man has been delivering children and helping mother's since years before we both arrived in this city, Hawke." He, thankfully, did not mention that all of those mothers never saw their children again.

 

Then, gentler, Cullen added, "I know he's probably not the ideal for you in that kind of talk but he's probably the most trustworthy."

 

Treva just stared at him for a moment, feeling her spine stiffen just slightly at the topic shift, before saying, "I'll talk to him. Thank you."

 

He just nodded and finally released her, straightening up to his full height once more. As he leaned back, though, Cullen carefully tugged her coat a little closer together and Treva took the hint to wrap it around herself again. She was then surprised to see his cheeks reddening as he commented, "A lady shouldn't be walking around so immodestly."

 

"Lady?" she repeated, the very idea summoning the ghost of an honest laugh that felt all too foreign in her throat. "I'm hardly a lady. My own mother gave up on me being anything of the sort by the time I was seven."

 

"Irrelevant," was his simple comment, made with a smile. Cullen then bowed slightly and said, "I will see you in my office momentarily then, Champion."

 

As he turned to leave, Treva gnawed on her lip then called out, "Cullen!" When he looked back, she smiled. "If we're to be partners, make me one simple deal."

 

He arched an eyebrow then nodded slowly.

 

"Call me by my name. I'm...I'm so _tired_ of just being Hawke or the Champion."

 

"Of course," he said almost immediately, inclining his head deeply as he smiled. "Treva."

 

With that he was gone, heading back into the depths of the Gallows and she looked back to out at the sea again. Slowly a smile worked at the corner of her mouth and she turned to slowly walk back into what was now her home. As she went, the familiar faces nodded to her again and some called out greetings that she answered with a smile or a nod. It was reassuring and warmed her heart even amongst the few sneers and glares she also earned on her way.

 

She was _not_ alone.

 


	5. 9:37 Dragon - Not Alone

"And we were having such a good day," commented Treva mournfully after Cullen had finished reading the letter aloud. Slumping back into her chair with both hands folded over the six-and-a-half month swell of her belly, she closed her eyes. "This could sabotage everything we've worked for these months."

 

The sound of something hitting the desk made her open her eyes and she was more than a little startled to find him leaning on it, his face buried in his hands. Sitting up, Treva leaned forward and reached out as far as she could across the desk.

 

"Cullen?"

 

After a moment he let his hands fall but his eyes never rose from the surface of the desk. That haunted gaze stayed there even as he reached out and cautiously laid one hand over hers. She sought for the proper words of reassurance but found none, only a very quiet, "Talk to me."

 

He finally lifted his gaze then and said, "You can't be here when they arrive. Not in the Gallows, maybe not in Kirkwall."

 

"I'm not _running_."

 

" _Treva_ ," he hissed and his half-furious, half-terrified tone made her heart sink in her chest. "They would arrest you and there would be  _nothing_ I could do. This isn't like dealing with Meredith. Even at the end, she was still a known quantity compared to the contingent that's coming."

 

"Cullen,"  Treva began slowly, "I can't...I  _won't_ ...leave my  mages . I promised. And this..." She paused to take a deep breath, trying to still the panic working to swell inside of her. "This is my  _home_ now. I can't lose another one.  _I can't_ ."

 

"Maker preserve, woman, I'm trying to keep you safe!"

 

"I know."

 

He sighed in exasperation and rose from his chair, moving to the window that looked down on one of the Gallows' smaller courtyards. As he placed his hands on the windowsill, she found her eyes drawn to the broad line of his shoulders and the play of muscles underneath his tunic then dropped her gaze to her lap guiltily. Siegfried had warned her that one of the things she might experience as her pregnancy progressed was her emotions going wild on her.

 

What terrified her was that it maybe  _wasn't_ just crazed feelings. The man standing at the window had become one of the anchors in her life, perhaps the only reason she hadn't gone mad. They had become close friends and she cared about him.

 

As he seemed to care about her.

 

What made her feel irrationally guilty was feeling for another man so soon after  Anders .

 

Treva started to open her mouth when he abruptly turned, shaking his head as he regarded her in full-blown frustration. "At least leave the Gallows until they've come and gone," stated Cullen, his voice weary.

 

"And leave you to face the full-force of them alone?"

 

"Yes!"

 

Angry now, she rose from her seat and very slowly walked around the desk towards him. As he stared at her, looking all too unsure of what she was doing, she breathed, "No."

 

" Treva ..."

 

"Cullen," she said sharply, her voice carrying the tone of command she'd fostered through so many battles over the years. He jerked at the sound, soldier's reflexes automatically bringing him to near attention, and then scowled down at her.  Treva stared back at him and asked, "When, in all the years you've known me, have I left one of my friends behind?"

 

He blinked, slowly, then answered quietly, "Never."

 

"And what," she demanded, "makes you think I'm going to change now?" When he didn't answer and simply stood there looking down at her, she lifted a hand and cautiously pressed her fingers against his chest. "You told me that I was not alone."

 

"Yes."

 

"Then what you need to remember," she pressed as she lifted her eyes to meet his own, "is that neither are  _you._ "

 

Cullen just stood there, staring down at her for a moment with an expression on his face that she couldn't put words to. Then he shook his head, chuckling weakly, and said, "Very well. The matter stands that they might recognize you, though,  Treva ."

 

" _Might_ ," she repeated with hard emphasis. "So far as I'm aware, there's never been any solid description of me put out anywhere. And, you know as well as I, that with  Varric's stories I shift through appearances as much as anyone or anything else."

 

"True," he grumbled.

 

Treva just smiled up at him then stepped back, letting her hand fall to her side and trying not to mourn the severed connection between them. "And who would expect the Champion of Kirkwall to have stayed in the city? Let alone to be living in the Gallows? We did prepare for this eventuality, if you recall."

 

He snorted then Cullen nodded heavily as he agreed, "Yes, we did. Still...be careful,  Treva ."

 

"I've survived most of my life as an apostate on the run," she noted with a broad smile and confidence that she didn't quite feel. She put it on for him anyway, to try and reassure. "I think I can slip past the notice of a few  templars and  Chantry officials for a week."

 

Cullen sighed then haphazardly flipped a hand at her belly. "And what of the child? One of them will ask, you know."

 

Folding her hands over the swell of her child,  Treva moved to sink back into her chair as she answered simply, "I'll lie." When he just stared at her pointedly, she sighed and added, "Oh, and  _of course_ I'll promise to send the babe away to another Circle because  mages can never  _ever_ have family because it would break precious  Chantry hearts to have them be happy."

 

"Well, I wouldn't say it in so many words," he commented with a smile as he moved to retake his own seat. Then he frowned seriously and said, "I'll send our still lingering loyalists out for duties while the contingent is here. The last thing we need is one of them blowing our cover."

 

Thinking of the loyalists still in the ranks made her think of the former Knight-Commander and she asked quietly, "And what do we tell them if they ask what happened to Meredith?"

 

Cullen's eyes narrowed and she found a great deal of strength in his quiet response.

 

"We lie."

 

\------

 

All of their worries ended up turning out to be for naught. The contingent came and went through the Gallows and Kirkwall with little fanfare and even littler issue.  Treva and Cullen - with some help from  Varric as well as their  mages and  templars \- had put on quite the show for them, well representing a Circle that was in good hands and decidedly  _not_ in need of annulment.

 

In fact, the biggest thing that happened while they were in the city was that Cullen was apparently officially the Knight-Commander of Kirkwall and she'd gotten approval as a replacement for  Orsino . Despite the fact that the First Enchanter position didn't require it - as Cullen had noted before, it was generally a position decided by the  mages themselves - it had made them breathe a little easier.

 

"Well," began  Treva as they stood side-by-side on the stone pier watching the ship that contingent had arrived on traveling across the harbor, "that went better than expected."

 

"So it did," he commented softly. She frowned at his answer and turned to look up at him curiously. After a long moment he sighed and said, "I don't expect our peace to last,  Treva . Especially not with the news that they carried about the other Circles."

 

The word that Mother Augustine had used -  _revolt_ \- seemed to burn in  Treva's mind as she recalled it. And the fact that there were whispers of  _her_ , of how her hand in things had saved the  mages from the wrath of their  templar jailors, disturbed her. More-so in the fact that they were using her to incite rebellion when it was the last thing she'd ever wanted.

 

"Maybe not," she finally managed to say. "But I'll be damned if I don't try to make things better before the world tries to destroy itself." Smiling weakly, she asked, "Still with me?"

 

Cullen nodded and smiled as he answered, "Until the end."

 


	6. 9:38 Dragon - What Makes Us Happy

"So what's the little mite's name?" asked Varric as he reached into the crib to rub the five day old infant's belly. The sleeping boy made little response other than to shift restlessly, one tiny hand coming to gently rest against the dwarf's fingers.

 

Treva smiled at her oldest friend as she moved to the other side of the crib. As she reached down and cautiously brushed at the few sparse strands of white-blond hair on the tiny head, she answered softly, "Mathis."

 

"That come from Blondie's side of the family?"

 

Unlike a few of her friends, Varric's tone didn't change when he talked about Anders. There was no anger, no outrage that shone through, just the same normal tone that he'd always had when talking about him. While she could understand the rage, it also hurt, and that made her extra thankful for Varric's company.

 

"Sort of," she answered. "It was his name. His real name."

 

Frowning, Varric asked, "You sure that's a good idea, Hawke?"

 

Treva shrugged in response. "Who's to know?" she asked. "He refused to give his name at the Tower, that's why they called him Anders. All they ever knew about him as a boy was that his family was from the Anderfels originally."

 

Sighing, she looked at him and continued, "I wanted him to have something of his father's."

 

The dwarf chuckled at that, commenting, "Hawke, between you and Blondie, the boy's probably going to be bursting with magic. And he's obviously not taking after your side of the family."

 

She laughed at that and curled her fingers in the fine hairs on her son's head as Varric's comment was certainly true. It might be that Mathis' hair would darken with age but it would never be so dark as hers. Both she and the twins had inherited the black hair of their father, not a one getting Leandra's color which had been a fine auburn before the gray.

 

"Maybe the blue eyes will stick," she said with a smile. "Mother always called them the Hawke eyes because Carver and I both inherited them from Father."

 

Treva then closed her eyes and breathed, "I think I understand my parents a little better now."

 

"Oh?" asked Varric casually.

 

"I...I don't want him to have magic, Varric. Not now. Not when the world's trying to fall apart around us." Tears stung at her eyes and she opened them to blink them away furiously. Cupping Mathis' tiny face, she asked, "Is that terrible of me?"

 

There was silence for a moment then her friend gently laid a hand on her shoulder as he said, "Can't speak for myself but word has it that parents always worry about their children, no matter what. Magic or no magic." When that managed to coax a little smile out of her, Varric continued, "He's got the best chance out of anyone to grow up okay. Come on, Hawke, you and Daisy to teach him magic along with the lot here? A bunch of overprotective aunts and uncles to babysit whenever and threaten anyone who tries to touch a hair on his head?"

 

"You're right," she interrupted. "The boy's hopelessly ruined."

 

Varric just grinned brightly then added, "And maybe a templar to help raise him."

 

Treva abruptly froze and stared at the dwarf for a moment before stammering frantically, "There's...there's nothing between me and Cullen, Varric!" He merely arched his eyebrows at her, everything about his demeanor saying that he didn't believe her for a second. "We're _friends_!"

 

"Hawke, that's what you told me about Blondie too. Right before he moved in with you."

 

She snapped her teeth shut over a retort and felt her cheeks growing hot as she bowed her head. Half of it was embarrassment that she'd been so obvious and the other was the fact that she still honestly didn't know how she felt about Cullen. After a moment, she looked back up at Varric and growled, "Don't you dare put that into one of your books."

 

His eyes lit up and Varric smiled before saying almost dreamily, "A templar and a mage in love. Forbidden romance. People would be all over it." As she reached out and smacked his arm, the dwarf laughed and said quickly, "I'm not going to write anything that'll put you in danger, Hawke."

 

Treva sighed and straightened from the crib, running her hands back through her hair in exasperation. "Nothing's happening with Cullen, Varric," she insisted. At his dubious look, she added, "Not that I haven't _thought_ about it. But..."

 

"But?" he pressed as he drew his hand out of the crib as well but stayed by it, leaning his arms against the end while gently rocking it back and forth.

 

"I don't know if it's _real_ or just my emotions screwing with my head. There were times I broke down in tears for no reason!" Throwing up her hands, she collapsed into the chair that someone had dragged over next to the crib while she'd still been recovering from the birth. "He's become a friend, Varric. I don't want to sabotage that friendship, not with what we've both taken upon ourselves."

 

What she didn't say - _couldn't_ say - was that she was still, even after the Chantry and everything, struggling with the convoluted tangle of emotions that all focused on the memory of Anders.

 

"Hawke," said Varric gently and she lifted her head to look at her friend. The dwarf shook his head and asked, "What do you think would make you happy? Because you haven't been that in a long time."

 

"I...I don't know."

 

"Maybe you should consider that before anything else then."

 

Treva sighed at that. "It isn't that simple and you know it."

 

"So delegate. You're going to need to anyway with the kid, so do it a bit more than you might need. Get _out_ of the Gallows every once in a while. We worry about you, Hawke."

 

"I know." Turning her head, she looked at the crib sadly before saying, "Mathis has to be my priority right now. After that...we'll see."

 

The dwarf sighed, saying, "I suppose that'll do." He then hooked his thumbs into his belt and added, "I should probably be on my way. Last boat'll probably be heading out soon and despite you living here now, I really don't care to stay. Place is still too creepy."

 

Treva smiled and said, "I've already convinced Cullen to get rid of the rest of the Tevinter statues to try and solve some of that. It's just a matter of when we can get organized enough and not have to deal with an internal crisis."

 

"Crisis?" he repeated. "Anything you two need us for?"

 

"Just the usual templars who don't agree with the changes we're making. Cullen's already weeded out the worst of them and the mages have been good about coming to me when something happens with one of the others. Nothing we can't handle and both of us would rather keep the issues quiet. The last thing the city needs is to think that the Gallows is going to erupt into violence again."

 

Varric nodded then smiled, saying, "Well, you and Curly seem to be doing a good job in regards to the populace. From what I hear, though, you may be in the city sooner than you expect."

 

"Oh?" she asked even as she mentally rolled her eyes at the nickname he'd put to Cullen. It was apt given the man's hair had a strong tendency towards curls but still hadn't been what she'd expected from her friend.

 

"Nobles are itching to get a new Viscount in place, Hawke, now that it seems the city's starting to settle again. Way I hear talk going, a lot of them are wanting to put you in the seat given that you saved them and all."

 

Treva paled before stammering, "I can't...I'm the last person who wants the position, Varric. Plus I have the Circle, the mages...I can't leave them."

 

"Well," he drawled, "you'd better be thinking of a better candidate. You and Curly both."

 

"We will. And thank you." Managing a smile, she added, "For the advice and the warning."

 

Varric just shrugged as he turned to head towards the door, saying, "What're friends for? I'll see you later, Hawke."

 

"Later," she returned then sighed, sinking back into the chair as she reached out to rest one hand on the edge of the crib. Tilting it towards her, she found an honest smile creeping onto her face as Mathis was looking up at her. "What do you think?" Treva asked. "Would you like a templar for a father?"

 

When he just grinned and waved his arms before sticking a finger in his mouth, she laughed.

 

"Well, we'll see, little one."


	7. 9:38 Dragon - To Have Eyes

Treva sighed and flicked her fingers across the skirts of the robes she was wearing for the third or fourth time since they'd boarded the boat that fluttered between the Gallows and the main docks of Kirkwall. Next to her Cullen chuckled and asked, "Issues?"

  
  


"I _hate_ robes," she answered. "Can't a woman get a sensible pair of pants? No, no, apparently that's not _done_ in the Circle." Sighing again, she looked up at him whilst she shifted a sleeping Mathis in his sling . "Why didn't I just wear my Champion armor?"

  
  


"Because you specifically told me that you wanted to be here in your office of First Enchanter, _not_ the Champion," he replied with a smile. "Which is why we found you robes."

  
  


She honestly tried not to notice how the smile lit up his face and made him seem years younger. Or how it made her heart hammer against her ribs just that little bit faster. Mostly because with Mathis approaching five months old now, she couldn't honestly tell herself that it was just overactive emotions from her pregnancy hanging over.

  
  


Especially not after she'd quietly approached Siegfried with a query about such a thing and him checking her over and declaring her perfectly fit.

  
  


"A question though, Treva."

  
  


Shaking her head, she blinked at him curiously and asked, "What?"

  
  


Cullen inclined his head towards the sleeping boy, saying, "Are you sure you want to bring Mathis with us? From what I can recall of accompanying Meredith once or twice to these sort of things, the nobles have a bad habit of getting noisy."

  
  


Arching an eyebrow, she replied, "And how is that going to be different from him sitting with me while I'm teaching a rambunctious bunch of children how to not set themselves on fire?"

  
  


There was silence for a moment as he absorbed that answer then he quietly noted, "Fair point."

  
  


Treva smiled brilliantly - while ignoring the way his cheeks flushed and the warmth that curled in her belly in response - then turned her attention to the swiftly approaching docks. There was a familiar form waiting there for them and she lifted a hand in greeting while calling out his name. When she finally stepped off of the boat after it was moored, Varric chuckled then extended his arms in mock shock towards her.

  
  


"Curly, you managed to get her in a dress!"

  
  


"Robes!" she growled as she swatted the dwarf's shoulder. "And Cullen didn't get me into anything."

  
  


"Has he gotten you _out_ of anything?" asked Varric with a suggestive smirk.

  
  


"Varric!"

  
  


Cullen made a noise in his throat from almost directly behind her and Treva froze before slowly turning her head to look at him with wide eyes. He was standing there with his arms neatly folded behind his back and, despite the embarrassed pink clinging to his cheeks, he inclined his head to Varric in greeting.

  
  


"Shall we?" he asked and she sincerely hoped that she imagined his voice cracking just the slightest bit. Flinching with embarrassment, she nodded meekly then was surprised when he extended an arm towards her. Treva cautiously slid her arm into his, all the while trying not to look up at him _and_ ignore Varric's quiet snickering, as they started on their trek towards Hightown.

  
  


As they passed through Lowtown near the Hanged Man, the dwarf parted from them with a quiet, "You be good now, kids. I've got some business to take care of." With that he was gone and she silently fumed as she wondered if _business_ was his latest book while wondering what idea he might have taken from the tangle that was her life this time.

  
  


They stayed silent as they weaved their way through Lowtown, Treva periodically nodding or calling greetings to the people she knew, until they reached the stairs that led up to Hightown. As they mounted them, Cullen's quiet voice shattered the silence.

  
  


"Is there something I should know?"

  
  


She startled and turned to look at him, blinking slowly before she rediscovered the ability to speak. "No?" she replied, instantly regretting it as it had been more a question than an answer. Sighing, Treva began, "Cullen, I..."

  
  


"Treva," he intoned gently, "I do have eyes."

  
  


Oh.

  
  


Suddenly embarrassed beyond belief, she lifted a hand to cover her face and asked, "How long?" The insufferable man next to her had the nerve to chuckle and lift his free hand to gently pat hers where it rested in the crook of his arm.

  
  


"Since your third or fourth month. I actually spoke to Siegfried about it as I was worried it was...odd...for you to be expressing such so soon after Anders." He then smiled, continuing, "He assured me it was normal for your emotions to be having their way with you right then and making you behave oddly - his words not mine - and then threatened to set me on fire."

  
  


Treva arched her eyebrows at that, trying to imagine the mild-mannered older man threatening anyone. Cullen noticed and laughed, the sound bright amongst the still drab walls that followed them up out of Lowtown.

  
  


He shook his head as he said, "He was worried I might take advantage of you."

  
  


" _You?_ " she gasped. Even given the words expressed the first time they'd met, she'd never believed that Cullen would cause harm to a mage. "How could Siegfried even think such a thing?"

  
  


"Unfortunately there were some unsavory rumors that followed me out of Ferelden," he answered darkly. "You've probably overheard a few by now."

  
  


"Heard, yes. Believed, no."

  
  


He smiled at that and inclined his head respectfully. She imagined suddenly that there weren't many people that had believed the best of him over the years, especially not knowing what he'd gone through in Ferelden. Or those who had simply seen him as a power-grabber, given that he'd become Knight-Captain not long after his arrival in Kirkwall.

  
  


Cullen sighed as they reached the top of the stairs and said, "I gave him my solemn oath that I'd be professional with you until you were emotionally stable again. Though given what both of us have been through in our lives, I'm not really sure exactly what _stable_ is."

  
  


Treva couldn't help but to laugh at that, nodding in solidarity. She then nervously looked up at him as she realized exactly what he'd said and asked softly, "And what was your intent to do at that point?"

  
  


"Well," he began and she could hear the nervous little stutter he got when he was well and truly off balance starting, "if you would have it, my lady, I would ask if I could court you. Properly."

  
  


For a moment she just stared up at him as he expertly steered them through the Hightown market, her heart hammering against her ribs and her mouth feeling suddenly as dry as a desert. Treva then realized that he'd moved them into a side-street and that Cullen was holding both of her hands in his own gauntleted ones, staring down at her like a man lost.

  
  


After a moment she managed to lick her lips and breathe, "I...I never imagined you'd feel the same. I mean, I knew you cared but I never dreamed..."

  
  


"That a templar would dare do more towards a mage?" he asked, seeming to regain some of his ground. He chuckled, closing his eyes, then almost sadly said, "You aren't the first mage I've cared for, Treva."

  
  


She froze then said, "In Ferelden? Before?" An instant later she felt bad for prying and stammered, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

  
  


"And if I do?"

  
  


Treva blinked then answered, "Then standing in the open in a Hightown street probably isn't the best place."

  
  


At that Cullen laughed and nodded, saying, "When you are right, you are right." He then smiled shyly and asked, "May I court you?"

  
  


"Are you certain you want this?"

  
  


"Treva, I am fully aware of everything that comes with you, Varric and the rest included. Along with your very overprotective younger brother who is no doubt going to threaten me when he returns from Starkhaven." His eyes then darted down to Mathis as he added, "As well as this young lad."

  
  


She gnawed at her lip, indecisive for a moment, then blurted, "I want him to know who his father is."

  
  


Cullen just blinked at her for a moment then nodded solemnly. "I respect that and think it for the best. Should Mathis come to have magic, his father might be one of the better lessons for what not to do with it." He then blanched and closed his eyes as he hurriedly said, "I honestly mean no disrespect for Anders but he..."

  
  


"Cullen," Treva interrupted, shaking her head. "I, more than anyone, know what Anders became at the end. You haven't offended me."

  
  


"Oh. Good."

  
  


For some reason the relief in his voice made her laugh and it caused some of the tightness that had gathered in her chest during the past months to loosen. Smiling up at him, she squeezed his steel-clad fingers before saying, "Ser Cullen, you have my permission. And good luck to you as my mother always told me I would never be easy for a noble man to court."

  
  


His bright, pleased smile was almost blinding and when he bowed just slightly, bringing both of her hands up to his lips to kiss them, Treva felt her stomach flutter wildly. "A good thing then," Cullen purred before he drew away, "that I am only a simple man and not a noble." Honestly she wondered if he knew what effect he had on her in that moment.

  
  


He then straightened as he said, "Now, I believe we have a meeting to get to. I seriously doubt our new Viscount would be happy if the people who sponsored her to the nobility were late." As he released her hands, Cullen extended his arm again to her and she smiled as she took it.

  
  


"Aveline," said Treva smartly as they restarted their trek through Hightown, "has long been aware that I rarely if _ever_ get anywhere on time. I'll have you know that she'd been wont to comment that I'd be late to my own funeral."

  
  


That brought a chuckle out of the man and she smiled at the sound, no longer so afraid to admit that she liked it. Turning to look up at him as they passed by the Amell estate, she murmured, "Thank you."

  
  


Cullen frowned and asked, "For what?"

  
  


There wasn't really a way she could put everything that she wanted to say into words. How could she thank him for allowing her to stay in the Gallows, for understanding that she couldn't stand to go home? For supporting her suggested changes and including his own that she hadn't thought of because she'd never lived in a Circle? How could she express how much it had meant to have someone to talk to in the dead of night when the rest of the Gallows was asleep? Someone who would listen to her rant and prattle and occasionally tell her fears? There weren't words for that.

  
  


"Everything," she finally answered because there was no other.


	8. 9:38 Dragon - Want and Need

Treva stared down at the twisted body for a moment then slowly lifted her eyes to Cullen. He too was staring down at what had been one of their most promising students while her blood slowly dripped from the end of the sword he held loosely in his hand. Ever achingly slow his eyes rose to meet hers and the pain in them was almost a physical blow.

 

It took everything she had to compact her emotions down and calmly leave the room to inform the Senior Enchanters who were standing outside. She held them tightly as they went through the motions of preparing the body for the funeral ceremony. That had been one of her stipulations on reinstating the Harrowing, that any mage who failed it would not simply be shuttled away, a ghost story for those left behind. They would do things properly and no one would wake up in the night from unknown terrors. She'd suffered through it with Anders on occasion and she would not do it again.

 

By the time they were done and had her body as well as that of another student who'd failed two days before on the carefully constructed pyre in the center of the main courtyard, she was nearly at the end of her rope. So when it began to rain, Treva snarled and lashed out with everything she had. As she brought the fire to life and begged and swore it to greater fury to ensure it consumed everything, she became aware of templar shields surrounding her. For the first time in her life that didn't terrify her.

 

"First Enchanter," murmured one of them quietly and she smiled as she recognized Keran's voice.

 

"I'm fine," she assured, her eyes on the pyre. When the shields didn't move she turned around because she knew exactly who was behind her and reached out to touch the Sword of Mercy emblazoned on Cullen's breastplate. He stared down at her for a moment then lifted a hand, carefully folding steel fingers over hers as he bowed his head.

 

A silent sigh seemed to ripple through the crowd and the templar shields lowered, allowing Treva to see the worried faces of her mages beyond them. Giving them a reassuring smile, she said, "I wasn't about to let a little rain keep us from giving them a send-off." Shifting her attention to the templars, she inclined her head respectfully. "My apologies if I worried you gentlemen."

 

"Only a little, _messere_ ," murmured one of the older men. He then straightened and looked at Cullen, asking, "Commander?"

 

"At ease for the night," he answered quietly and Treva became all too aware of the fact that his eyes had never strayed from her. "We have new mages to celebrate tomorrow. Tonight we mourn those we've lost."

 

There was a quiet murmur of acknowledgement from the men and the crowd dispersed, the mages lingering only slightly longer to wait for her nod of agreement. As they filtered away, leaving them alone at the edge of one of the walkways. Treva was silent for a moment, just watching the way the firelight flickered across Cullen's face, then she asked, "Were you afraid?"

 

"For a moment." He gently squeezed her hand before continuing, "Mostly because I know how much you hate this. And when you...Maker, Treva, when you lashed out with that streamer of fire and poured yourself into it, I thought I was about to lose you."

 

"Lose me?" she repeated, frowning in confusion. "To demons?"

 

Cullen growled in frustration then released her hand, turning away from her as he threw up his arms. "To your own _magic_. It is possible, I've seen it happen when a mage overextends themselves. Dip too deep into that well and you start digging into your _life force._ And if you go too far...there's no coming back."

 

"I wasn't even close to overextending, Cullen." Shaking her head, she moved to stand beside him where she could see his face, which was shadowed now as he bowed his head. "I learned at the knee of a Circle-trained mage, remember? My father made sure all of that was drilled into my head."

 

"You _looked_ like they did," he murmured. "Focused, intent, and I could feel you pouring yourself into the magic. For a moment I was right back there..."

 

Treva reached up then and touched his face, forcing him to turn and look at her. "This," she said firmly, "is _not_ the Tower." He nodded as he leaned his face into her touch and she wondered, not for the first time, what it was that attracted her to broken men. Perhaps it really was, as Cullen had noted before, that she was just as emotionally unstable as they were.

 

Sighing, she reached for his hand and said, "Come. Let's leave the fire to burn itself out and get somewhere warm ourselves."

 

"Yours?" he questioned as he followed her gentle tug.

 

"Yours," replied Treva with a shake of her head. "Orana agreed to stay this last night after she watched Mathis during the Harrowing. Practically insisted after I told her about Mariah." She then cursed as she misjudged the walkway and stepped right out into the rain, halting in her tracks. Sputtering in surprise, she turned to peer back at Cullen where he stood still mostly dry, looking at her in amusement.

 

"Might as well commit to getting wet, my lady," he commented wryly. She just arched an eyebrow at that and tugged at his arm. He laughed and obediently followed her into the rain, the downpour tinnily streaming down his armor. "You _do_ realize I'm in metal armor?"

 

Nodding, she called an affirmative over her shoulder as she started moving again through the rain. Pulling them in under a walkway again, Treva pushed sodden hair back from her face and hurried onward towards his room. Given that she'd taken Meredith's old room at his insistence, he was still in the quarters he'd held as Knight-Captain. While they were larger than the average templar's quarters and even had a separate sleeping room, it wasn't anywhere near the size of her own.

 

As they entered, she huffed at the sight of the unlit fire and moved in that direction first while he closed the door. Treva quickly poked the unused remnants of the fire as well as some new logs together and brought them to life with a flicker of fire from her fingertips. After quietly urging it to be a little higher so as to more quickly warm the chill from the room, she turned back towards Cullen.

 

He'd already set one gauntlet aside and had draped the sodden red sash across the back of a chair. Then he cursed, fingers fumbling over a buckle that held the skirt armor in place, before blinking as she started working on the set of buckles that secured his pauldrons. "I can get undressed myself, you know," he said quietly.

 

Treva just smiled as she swiftly finished her work and pulled the pauldrons free. As she set them aside on the small table, she mused, "But it goes so much faster when I help you."

 

He arched his eyebrows at that and reached out with his bare hand to gently touch her face. "Treva," he said quietly, "I'm not pushing you to do anything."

 

"I know," she answered with a breathless little sigh. "I want this. I want _you_."

 

A shudder ran through him and Cullen hissed, "Say it again."

 

Smiling, Treva easily flipped open the buckles on his other gauntlet and slid it off, setting it to the side with one hand as she twined the fingers of the other with his. "I want you," she repeated. "Be a gentlemen and obey your lady."

 

"However could I resist?" he purred before pulling her in close and then the warmth of his mouth devoured hers. Both of their motions grew somewhat frantic then as they strove to divest him of the damp armor that was between them. As he kicked the sodden skirts aside and worked to get out of the gambeson sticking resolutely to him, Treva loosened her belt. By the time she started pulling her soaking tunic over her head, warm hands were caressing her sides. Unable to help her groan, she reached out to tug at his shirt which was flat against his skin.

 

"Off," she ordered.

 

He obliged and before the sodden cloth had hit the ground, her fingers were roving across the planes of his chest and belly. She found a collection of scars to look at closer later, a ticklish spot along his right side, and a decent thatch of reddish blonde hair. "Red?" she questioned while lifting her gaze to his very blond hair.

 

Cullen smiled down at her and replied, "My hair was a lot redder when I was younger. Getting so much sun these years in Kirkwall probably hasn't helped keep the color much."

 

"I find out new things about you all the time," noted Treva with a laugh. As she slid her fingers downward, hooking them into the waistband of his pants, she asked, "What other secrets might I find?"

 

One of his hands covered hers then and he was suddenly pushing her backwards. As her back met the closed door and he pressed her against it, Treva was suddenly all too aware of how large a man he was. She'd known it really but it hadn't been so starkly obvious until now. Cullen was not all that much taller than Anders had been but he was broader, plate armor and working with sword and shield giving him a muscle mass that her former lover just didn't have.

 

As he pressed her against the door, his hands slid down her sides and it felt like they left a fever in their wake. Almost too neatly he loosened the ties on her own pants and began to free the wet cloth from its hold on her hips. While he worked it downward, he leaned close and whispered, "Why don't you come and find them?"

 

Heat flared in her belly and Treva's hands flew to work at his laces. The fabric of his pants seemed to cling to him almost teasingly so she simply let out a growl of frustration and jerked them open as much as she could. As she thrust her hand inside and grasped him, he groaned before following it with a breathless kiss.

 

By the time they separated, she had both hands on his shoulders as she worked to toe her boots off. "Bed," she ordered in a growl as she succeeded. Cullen didn't seem in any hurry, however, as he simply pressed her against the door while he worked the knots on her breastband loose. Treva arched her body against his as his sword calloused hands caressed her breasts, whining in the back of her throat. "Cullen," she pleaded while trying to get traction and wrap a leg around him, "please. _Please._ "

 

"Treva," he growled, his breath hot against her throat, and then he was lifting her up. As she wrapped her legs around him, she felt the still annoying presence of his pants and pressed herself against him to hiss in his ear about them. He snarled wordlessly in response and pinned her to the door again, devouring her mouth and plundering her breasts. When Cullen returned to her mouth, he kissed her soundly before saying shortly, "They'll be gone in a moment."

 

Treva felt the door leave her back then and pressed herself tightly against him, arching and writhing wildly. It made him stagger just enough to make her smile then she was flat on the bed and he was pulling away. Trying to work through the haze filling her mind at the moment was hard but she managed it, regaining enough control to watch Cullen with interest. When he finally tossed the pants aside and kicked the boots under the bed, she licked her lips while crooking one finger at him.

 

He came obediently, obviously trying to be more gentle than he had been as he lowered himself onto the bed. She hooked one leg around him in response and pulled his weight down on top of her while hissing into his ear, "I am _not_ fragile." Treva felt him shift and then he was pressing her down into the bed while his mouth descended onto hers again. Wrapping her legs around him, she pulled him closer and groaned when she inadvertently drew him inside of her. He groaned right along with her, both sounds lost in each other mouths as the sudden contact made the kiss all the more heated.

 

It wasn't really clear who began moving first but it didn't matter. Treva panted and pulled him in closer with her legs and hands, coaxing him to nearness with her lips. She said his name over and over again like it was a prayer, eyes closed as she begged and pleaded for him to love her. In return he gasped her name into her mouth between worshipping every inch he could touch with lips that were all too good at their task. She felt like he was a man dying of thirst and she was the one thing that would bring him refreshment.

 

Almost too soon she could feel the pressure building inside of her and hugged him close while breathlessly repeating his name right in his ear. When it broke and consumed her, fire that burned to her core and filled her, Treva swore she tasted the Fade on the back of her tongue. Moments later Cullen shuddered inside of her, breathing hard as he rolled to the side and brought her with him.

 

Curling up into his chest, she smiled and gently kissed him. When she received only a low moan in return, Treva asked, "Did I break you?"

 

There was a moment of silence then Cullen grunted as he wrapped an arm tightly around her while shifting just enough to pull out of her. Then he answered quietly with a smile, "Not yet. Still plenty of hours until the morning to try though."

 

"Is that so?" she asked wryly.

 

"Mmhmm," he hummed in response as he dipped his head to kiss her back. "After we sleep, though. That was quite a bit of work."

 

Laughing, Treva nodded into the sheets before saying, "I'm going to hold you to that, Cullen."

 

A low chuckle was all that answered her and Cullen quietly replying, "Of that I have no doubt, my lady." All too satisfied with that response, she closed her eyes and let the low hum of her body and the thrumming of the rain outside lull her to sleep.


	9. 9:38 Dragon - Mourning the Past

Surprisingly it hadn't been as hard as she'd thought to make plans right under Cullen's nose. A quick note to Orana had assured her someone to watch Mathis for the night, another to Varric had secured enough alcohol to take down an ogre, and a whispered word to Knight-Captain Tomas about what anniversary was coming up had cemented his participation.

 

Really the hardest task Treva had was cornering the man.

 

By the time she'd finally tracked him down in his office, the atmosphere of the Gallows felt taut as a wire merely from all of the templars and mages trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. As Siegfried had explained to her last year during the anniversary, despite the fact that they trusted Cullen, some of them were still wary of him during that time. Even Siegfried had admitted that, as someone who knew the reality of the sordid tale, he was surprised Cullen was sane and understood how he dealt with it.

 

This year Treva intended to not let the man mourn alone.

 

"I have a proposal," she opened with as she closed the door behind her. When Cullen didn't look up from his desk and whatever he was writing, she strode across the room. "Cullen," she said firmly as she placed both hands on the desk and leaned forward.

 

He looked up then, just a bare flicker of his eyes, then asked, "Your proposal?"

 

Treva smiled and reached out to touch his right hand, stilling its motion and more fully drawing his attention to her. As she finally caught his gaze with her own, she lifted her hand to his cheek and gently said, "I remember what today is the start of."

 

"Treva, I..."

 

"So help me if the next words out of your mouth are that you can handle it on your own, I will slap you," she interrupted fiercely. When he looked up at her in confusion, Treva continued, "I've already seen how you react to this. There's nothing to _hide_ from me, Cullen."

 

He closed his eyes at that and bowed his head while growling out, "I hate making you deal with this. With me."

 

"The point of _being together_ is to deal with each others baggage."

 

Cullen lifted his head to look at her at that and arched an eyebrow as he asked, "And how are you planning to do such?"

 

Treva just smiled in response and leaned down to kiss him, humming as he returned it immediately and set her toes curling. "You and I," she replied, "are going to take the night and possibly all of tomorrow off and get dead rotten drunk. We're going to mourn, cry, laugh, and probably fuck each others brains out as well at some point during that."

 

He blinked several times at her bluntness then murmured, "We have jobs."

 

"Tomas already said he could take your workload and I'm intending on hauling Siegfried in to cover my half. Honestly, Cullen, we really don't do that much anymore other than read paperwork and occasionally sign something." Treva cocked her head to the side then and added, "Orana's watching Mathis. Our jobs are secure. And, best yet, Varric procured us more alcohol than we can possibly drink in one night and it's just waiting for us."

 

There was silence in response for a moment and she could see him warring between arguing with her and just following along. Finally he sighed and sat down his quill, rising from his chair and moving around the desk. She smiled and turned to face him, her buttocks pressing against the edge of the desk as he placed his hands on either side of her hips. Looking down at her for a long moment, he let out a small huff of laughter and shook his head.

 

"You're sure you want to deal with me drunk? I'm told I get incredibly melancholy."

 

"Dear," Treva replied firmly, "I had my best friend procure us alcohol."

 

"Point made."

 

"I thought so."

 

Cullen shook his head then asked, "And where are we having this personal party of ours?"

 

Smiling, she replied, "Your quarters." He let out an exasperated sigh, shaking his head in what was most likely disbelief, but still smiled as she took his hand and led him out of the office. She just smiled back in return and noted each and every one of the grateful glances tossed her way when they passed someone in the halls.

 

And, very quietly, she hoped that next year and every one after that maybe they wouldn't have to mourn the anniversary of the rebellion in Ferelden's Circle so much.

 

* * *

 

"She stood there looking so _lost_. That's what I remember most."

 

Treva nodded and ran her fingers through Cullen's hair as she lifted her glass to her lips again. She was sitting on the low cushioned bench that had somehow found it's way into his room recently with him laid out on it with his head in her lap. His own glass dangled loosely from the arm that hung off the bench.

 

"She... _Maker_."

 

"Cullen," she breathed, "you don't have to tell me now."

 

He shook his head at that, lifting his arm to gently touch her cheek. "I do," he intoned quietly. "I should have done it before I asked to court you."

 

"Why?"

 

Cullen closed his eyes, as if in pain, and his lips moved but no sound seemed to come out. He seemed to say whatever he was trying to say again and again, mouthing it silently, then his eyes snapped open. "You remind me of her," he said quietly. "She cared too much too."

 

His fingers then trailed across her cheek, gently touching her nose before drifting downward to caress her lips drunkenly as he mumbled, "I imagined kissing her once too. Never did it though. Never had the _chance_."

 

Never stilling the motion of her fingers in his hair, Treva asked softly, "Who was she?"

 

"Elena," he replied. Then his eyes closed again as he continued a breath later, "Amell. Her name was Amell."

 

The surname thrummed through her for a moment - how many families were there in Thedas with _that_ name - then she breathed, "I...was she...were we...Cullen, were we kin?"

 

He just shook his head, eyes screwed shut now. "I don't know, I don't _know_ ," he answered hurriedly. "I never asked, never got to know her, never got the chance beyond _hello_ and _goodbye_. Fraternization wasn't allowed. I wanted to know, to ask, but I was too young to think of rebellion then."

 

A beat later he relaxed, slumping into her lap more fully, and wearily opened his eyes. "She was kind to me, to all of us in the Tower. Always said hello and goodbye and tried to get us to talk. I got teased mercilessly for being 'smitten' with her."

 

Treva swallowed then murmured, "And then she was accused of conspiring with a blood mage."

 

He nodded. "Her best friend. I think she was in love with him, looking back at it now. Jowan. I'm not sure what happened to him after everything. Wasn't in a state to ask."

 

"And her?"

 

Cullen grunted and sat up, lifting his glass to down the rest of its contents. He then rose and moved slowly across the room to pour himself another from the bottle of Nevarran whiskey he'd been working on through the night. She frowned and wondered what sort of box she'd opened asking that question as he took a long pull of the drink before leaning against the table.

 

When he finally turned around, Treva found that she dearly wanted to close it given the expression on his face.

 

"There is only one place you get sent after being exposed to blood magic," he said quietly with his eyes shut.

 

Sudden gibbering fear rose up within her at those words because she _knew_ the answer to that statement. _Aeonar_ _._ Father had mentioned it all of twice, once to her when she was twelve and again six years later when the twins were the same age. She remembered the second occasion much more clearly than the first not only because it had brought back all that old fear but because it was one of the few times then that she and Carver had gotten along during their youth. That night neither of them had been able to sleep and had stayed up, sitting together outside their house under one of the great trees, and he had sworn that he'd never let any of them end up there.

 

Tipping her head back, Treva finished off the dredges of her own drink and rose. Walking over to where he was standing, she sat her glass down then reached past the bottle of mead she'd been working through all night to grab the bottle of Antivan brandy. The way this conversation was going, she definitely was in need for something stronger. As she opened it, she asked, "Do you know what happened to her?"

 

Cullen shook his head, replying, "I tried to find out a few times. Once when I was still in Ferelden at Greenfell and a handful of other times throughout the years when I managed to catch a ship heading that way. No one ever responded." Shrugging, he continued after a moment, "I even tried once by way of asking about the Chantry sister that had been involved with Jowan. Even that didn't get anything."

 

At that she resealed the bottle of brandy and reached for the whiskey, lifting it up to drink straight from the bottle. As the liquid burned down her throat, she found him watching her and smiled bitterly before splashing whiskey into her glass.

 

His hand touched her arm then, the lightest of brushes that made her think he was expecting her to react badly. "Forgive me?" he asked.

 

"You didn't send her to Aeonar," insisted Treva. She then turned to look up at him, searching his oh-so-lost face for a moment, then lifted a hand to grasp his. As their fingers tangled together, she breathed, "If you hadn't known, I might have never known what happened to her. Maker, Cullen, I would have never known she _existed._ "

 

Cullen relaxed a beat later then bent to kiss her as his other hand slipped from his glass to rise and tangle in her hair. She moaned in response, pressing her body against his and clutching to him as if he might disappear himself, lost like her unknown kin had been. When he pulled away, he smiled ever so sadly and she lifted a hand to touch his lips, wishing the simple touch could change the turn of his mouth.

 

"Whatever did I do in this life to deserve you?" he asked quietly.

 

Smiling sadly, Treva replied, "My father once told me that people rarely get what they deserve. Sometimes, though, they get exactly what they need. You were that for me, a good friend when I needed one most to lean on."

 

"Only a friend?" Cullen asked with a slight smile.

 

"More now. And still exactly what I need," she answered, rising on her toes to kiss him.

 

He chuckled and nodded before murmuring, "And I think you are the same for me." Cullen then reached for his glass and lifted it, cocking his head slightly to the side as he asked, "A toast?"

 

Treva just smiled and retrieved her own glass, raising it to lightly touch it against his. "A toast to what?"

 

"To those lost," he replied first. "To loves and kin and friends. To everyone we still have. To what we've built." He then dipped his head and whispered, "To getting what I needed. And to the beautiful woman a broken man like me doesn't deserve," before he kissed her.

 

As he pulled away, she closed her eyes and breathed, "To the world growing wiser. To change." Then she opened her eyes and smiled up at him. "And to the man who dared trust a shattered woman and helped put her back together."

 

Cullen just blinked down at her for a moment then smiled warmly. A beat later he said softly, "I suppose we should drink now. Finish the toast and all."

 

"We should," she replied as she lifted her glass to her lips. Treva downed the whole of it and before the whiskey had finished burning down her throat, Cullen's fingers were prying the glass from her hand. Then those fingers were sliding underneath the hem of her loose shirt, moving feverishly along her bare skin until they found the knots of her breastband.

 

As he worked at them, she moved her hands to his waist, quickly undoing his belt and tossing it away. The alcohol was forgotten moments later as they made their way towards his bed but Treva had one last coherent thought.

 

She'd gone into this night thinking that she was going to help fix him.

 

It turned out that they were both trying to fix each other and that was exactly the way it was supposed to be.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Elena Amell in this universe is the same Elena from [What Drives Us](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1770871). This is what happened to her in a reality where she wasn't recruited to the Wardens.


	10. 9:38 Dragon - In From the Sea

"Well," drawled Isabela as she descended the ramp from her ship, hips rolling and drawing the eye of every man as well as a few women on the docks. "Look at you, Hawke!"

 

Treva laughed and shifted Mathis' weight against her hip as she grinned at the pirate. Her nine month-old son frowned curiously at the dark-skinned woman before curling up against her side, sticking one of his tiny fists in his mouth. It was, as she'd learned, one of the gestures he made when he was uncertain.

 

Gently patting his back, she said, "You're looking good yourself, Bela."

 

"I always look good, darling." The pirate then turned as she stepped onto the docks and shouted, "You lot know the drill and what comes off ship!"

 

"Aye, Captain!" came several cries and then Treva found her free arm entangled with Isabela's.

 

"And where's Fenris?" asked Treva as she nodded back at the ship.

 

Chuckling, the pirate answered, "He likes to keep an eye on the men. What he always says is he's doing it to keep them honest but I think he's lying to me. Really I think he's..."

 

"Isabela," came a growl from behind them and both women turned to see the aforementioned elf standing at the edge of the ship, his arms folded across his chest. He arched a pale eyebrow at the pirate then turned his attention to Treva, giving her one of his rare smiles. "Hawke."

 

"Hello, Fenris," she said with a smile as she bounced Mathis lightly. "You know it hasn't been so long that I'm going to start believing Bela's stories."

 

He chuckled darkly at that before saying, "I am aware." His green eyes flicked towards the pirate then and he asked, "Do I need to really do whatever it is you were going to suggest so crudely?"

 

"Only if you want to," she answered with a wink.

 

Fenris snorted then nodded to Treva. "I'll be inside in a few hours. Tell your templar his supplies are safe."

 

"I will," she answered and turned to head into the Gallows, now pulling a somewhat stunned Isabela behind her instead of the other way around. After a moment the other woman recovered and started to smile at her.

 

"Well, well, well."

 

"What?"

 

"I never expected our sweet Hawke to deflower a poor templar," answered Isabela slyly.

 

Treva scoffed and lifted her chin, smirking as she replied, "What makes you think he _needed_ deflowering?" She revelled in the momentary shock on the pirate's face, pleased that she had done so, then continued, "And he is decidedly not poor. At all."

 

Laughing, Isabela asked, "Who is this minx that's replaced our Hawke? You certainly weren't this saucy with Anders." Peering around Treva at Mathis, who hid his face in her hair, she added, "Surely motherhood didn't change your tune."

 

"Oh of course not." Treva smiled before saying, "I feel like I'm more free now than I have been in years, Bela. Some days it's still hard when I remember what happened but I have so many things to distract me from it. This little shy lad for starts." As she mentioned him, she freed her arm from Isabela and tickled her son's side, making him giggle and forget his uncertainty for a moment. "I don't have to hide here. There are people that need me here in the Gallows, mages and templars both, and others in the city. I'm rather shockingly happy."

 

"And," drawled Isabela, "you have a handsome man to please you at night. You forgot that part." She then tentatively reached out to tickle Mathis' belly, smiling as she drew a giggle out of him. "We are going to have to have a night just to ourselves before I leave, you know. I want to hear stories."

 

"Bela!" scolded Treva. "You have Fenris!"

 

The pirate just grinned, asking, "What makes you think he doesn't want to hear them himself?"

 

"You are _shameless_."

 

"And that, darling, is what everyone loves about me."

 

Treva laughed at that because she couldn't disagree. Then she asked, "How long can you stay this time?"

 

Isabela sobered somewhat then as she answered, "Not more than a few days, I'm afraid. Winter months are about to be starting and much as I like Kirkwall with you in it, it's not for us."

 

"Kirkwall isn't for everyone, so I understand." She then smiled, deciding quickly to change the subject, and asked, "So, have you heard who our new Viscount is?"

 

"Oh yes," replied the pirate, her eyes lighting up. "How did you manage to convince my girl to take over? No, don't answer. You appealed to her..." She paused to sniff and straighten her posture before saying in a bad mockery of Aveline, "Sense of duty."

 

"Something like that," answered Treva with a laugh.

 

Isabela grinned before asking quietly, "She hasn't changed, has she?"

 

Knowing exactly what Isabela was referring to, she smiled. "Aveline will still insult you, Bela. Viscount or not."

 

"That's my girl."

 

Treva just shook her head at that, saying, "Never change, Bela. Now, shall we go tell my templar that his supplies have arrived as Fenris put it?"

 

"Oh yes," answered the pirate warmly. "Is he still so awfully shy?"

 

"Not so much." Treva then smiled mischievously. "I do enjoy it when he blushes though."

 

"Darling," drawled Isabela as she looped their arms together again, "I think I can help you there." As their laughter echoed off the walls of the Gallows, Treva was all too glad that she had her long absent friend back at least for a time.

 


End file.
